


Don't Touch Me Please (I Cannot Stand The Way You Tease)

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Doesn't Know Anything About Massage, But She Would Like One, Fluff, He Gets A Massage Instead, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Massage, Obi Wan Is A Stubborn Bitch, Obi Wan Is A Workaholic, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Qui Gon Is A Massage Therapist, Qui Gon Is A Sassy Bitch, These Are Bail Organa Loving Hours, These Are Tahl Loving Hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: “Bail, come on now. I don’t need a… massage.” He wrinkled his nose as he spoke, as if the word was sour in his mouth. Qui Gon didn’t miss the little shake of his head, or the sound of him swallowing. If anything, more tension crept into his already tight shoulders.“Look, if you want an exchange, you’ll have to talk to Qui about it. It’s his business.” Bail shrugged, and turned to the door, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk that would make the city’s beauty queens give up their crowns. “Give it a shot, Kenobi. Qui Gon’s a master of anatomy; he might even be able to pull that stick out of your ass.”Obi Wan needs a massage, but doesn't want one. Luckily, Qui Gon's a master at dealing with stubborn gits.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 41
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

Qui Gon Jinn loved running The Temple Spa and Massage Parlour. The work was soothing and genuinely helped people, it didn’t require massive amounts of corporate bullshit, and it was, according to his father, “a complete waste of the medical degree he’d spent seven years funding”. A win-win situation for everyone involved. 

That wasn’t to say it didn’t have bad days. Running such specialist treatment in a tanking economy was always a struggle, and as much as he liked working with his close friends, slow days led to more snippy arguments than he would have hoped for. Tahl had unofficially banned arguing, at least from the reception.   
That, however, didn’t stop customers from bickering like there was no tomorrow. 

Qui Gon peeped out from behind a bamboo screen – his favourite place to people-watch the clients waiting for their treatments. Not for any creepy reasons, of course. He was just curious about the people he would be working on – their lives, their personalities, the cheeky jokes they told each other when they thought no-one else was listening. 

Bail Organa was therefore one of his favourite clients. The man was sophisticated to a fault, usually showing up in some elaborate silk-and-satin outfit that flattered his tan skin and athletic build. He was a little too polished to be Qui Gon’s type, but even brief observations showed him to be a generous man, with a truly wicked sense of humour. He visited the spa privately for his own treatments – facial, Tibetan head massage and perhaps a dip in the pool if he was feeling particularly indulgent – but at least once a month, he treated one of his many friends to a spot of pampering. Qui Gon’s favourite had been the heavily pregnant woman he’d brought in several years ago; she was so grateful for the aromatherapy they’d provided that she still sent them personalised Christmas cards every year. Qui Gon had been impressed by the man’s kindness even before he’d ran for Senator, and found himself a little touched that Bail still found time to visit, even with his burgeoning schedule. 

Such positivity, however, was not found in every client, and Qui Gon found his gaze tracking to Bail’s chosen friend this time. Whilst Bail was already by the desk, flirting with Tahl, his guest couldn’t have looked less relaxed, gaping at the water feature and fresh plants Qui Gon had picked out to be especially soothing. If anything, he was even more dressed up than Bail, his suit an impossibly drab grey that highlighted the unhealthy pallor to his lined face. Even his tie was charcoal, and he clutched a straining satchel like a life-preserver. 

“You can’t be serious. Bail – Bail!” He tugged hard on his friend’s sleeve, and Qui Gon winced for the cashmere’s sake. “We’ve got the French ambassador arriving tomorrow; I do not have time to-“ 

“If it were a doctor’s appointment, would you cancel it? Actually – don’t answer that. You probably would.” Bail sighed, and clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder. Qui Gon watched the wince flicker over his face, before being neatly tucked away again. “This is for your health, Ben. Stop being so stubborn.” 

“If it were a doctor’s appointment, I would have rescheduled it.” The man replied primly, looking at his watch. “Look, I’m not interested, okay? Can we just go? Buy me a pint if you want me to relax. Anything but this.” 

“Why are you making such a fuss? It’s just a bit of-“ 

“I don’t need-“ The man hissed, before Tahl floated over around the desk to greet them properly. Qui Gon had to hold back his giggles. Tahl was tough as nails – they’d met in army boot camp, for Christ’s sake – but she loved to play the spiritual master, especially on tourists or clients that might find it especially calming. Or irritating; in truth, there was nothing Tahl liked more than teasing those who deserved it. She was pulling out all the stops for Bail and his friend, her voice tinkling like a waterfall. 

“Now gentlemen, there is to be no bickering inside the Temple. This is a place of serenity, and wellness and-“ 

“Yes, yes – we rather get the point.” The man snapped, and Qui Gon found himself scowling; usually, people fixed their stuck-up behaviour during Tahl’s Saint routine, but this seemed to only make the man ruder. “Bail, come on now. I don’t need a… massage.” He wrinkled his nose as he spoke, as if the word was sour in his mouth. Qui Gon didn’t miss the little shake of his head, or the sound of him swallowing. If anything, more tension crept into his already tight shoulders. 

“Look, if you want an exchange, you’ll have to talk to Qui about it. It’s his business.” Bail shrugged, and turned to the door, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk that would make the city’s beauty queens give up their crowns. “Give it a shot, Kenobi. Qui Gon’s a master of anatomy; he might even be able to pull that stick out of your ass.” 

The man made some noise between a squawk and a groan, sinking down onto one of the delightfully plush chairs Tahl had selected for the waiting room. If he softened at the comfort, it was only for a moment, stopping as soon as he reached for the clipboard Tahl handed him. Qui Gon watched in horror as the man finished filling in his details, then reached into the satchel he’d lugged inside with him, pulling out what looked like a small office’s worth of documents, lining them up as neatly as he could around him, and quickly getting to work, as other clients eyed him with increasing concern. There was something… odd, something settled in his face that made Qui Gon’s hackles rise. 

He didn’t even look up when Qui Gon passed by to reach the reception, nor did he notice when Qui Gon pulled out his most soothing candle by the box by the front desk, lighting it as loudly as he could. Seeing the man’s tense unflinching face made him wish he had something a little more… medicinal to start burning. Still, Qui Gon was forced to turn away when the next set of clients – a pair of gossipy older women with silver curls – needed checking in. He managed one more glimpse of the man as Tahl dragged him towards the treatment rooms, and his wide eyes as she scurried off – satchel and all its paperwork tucked under her shoulder as the door swung closed. 

*

When Tahl emerged fifteen minutes later, Qui Gon wasn’t expecting her to look so harried. In truth, she rarely stepped out of an appointment; she committed herself fully to soothing her clients, and that meant giving them every second’s worth of her time and attention. But she emerged from the man’s room, rolling her shoulders and breathing deeply through her nose. 

“Qui – hope you’re feeling limber for this next one; he asked for you specifically.” She flopped down into the office chair beside him, rubbing her temple. “I can’t soothe him, and I even put on the Zen Garden playlist. The Zen Garden, Qui. That put you to sleep when you dislocated your hip, and he’s not even drooping!” 

“Reluctant customer?” Qui Gon asked, intrigued. For all the man’s performance earlier, Qui Gon hadn’t expected him to keep complaining; most people were swayed by the soothing music and balmy scented air. Tahl shook her head, looking troubled. 

“You could say that. Certainly a handful.” She glanced at the door to Spa Room Four, their most indulgent and usually reserved for customers with long-term needs, such as the cancer patients they treated as often as they could. Bail hadn’t specified, but it was also the most private, so it would be preferable if the man truly started to argue. “Wouldn’t even take off his jacket, but I’ve boosted the temperature so hopefully he’ll change his mind.” 

“Pain related?” 

“Definitely. When his friend left, he wilted like a sad little flower and he’s been apologising ever since.” “Sort him out, will you? Do us all a favour.” 

“Some people don’t want to be helped.” 

“Are you giving up before you’ve even started?” Tahl leaned forward, cool hand pressing against his forehead. “You certainly don’t feel feverish, though you must be ill to be sounding so utterly unlike yourself.” 

“Hush.” Qui Gon batted her hand away, and got to his feet, frowning. “I just… there’s something about that one. He feels… shielded.” 

“And aren’t you all about breaking down barriers?” Tahl smirked, nodding towards the door. 

“I see your point.” Qui Gon sighed, and forced himself to move. “Just… don’t blame me if I end up with a broken nose.” 

“If you end up with a broken nose, I’ll film it and put it on YouTube.” She smirked, as she patted his hip before trundling over to the kitchen to make tea. “Qui Gon Jinn – former professional martial artist – bested by a man with a pocket square!” 

Qui Gon grumbled a half-hearted response and headed over to the treatment room. 

_Curse you, Bail Organa. Always sending trouble my way._

*

When Qui Gon managed to find the courage to enter the room, he saw the man sat stiffly on the treatment table, looking at his watch. His face seemed more lined than before, the crease between his eyes deepening as he looked at Qui Gon. It wasn’t quite disgust, but it was close. Resentment, definitely. 

“You know, not many people show up for a massage in a full suit.” Qui Gon found himself lounging against the door-frame, watching the man. He hadn’t unwound much more since Tahl had got him settled, though he had at least taken off his jacket. He looked smaller without it. Qui Gon could see the slump in his shoulders more clearly now, though the man was sitting as straight as he could. 

“I’m not here for a massage – I just wanted to exchange the voucher. Or transfer it back to Bail’s name if you’re really going to be difficult about-“ 

“Oh, so you’re Mr Organa’s client – Ben, is it?” Qui Gon smiled, washing his hands. He turned, and squinted at the man, before smiling as widely as he could. “I expected you to be older.” 

“Older?” The man sounded annoyed but not surprised; he did look rather young to be Bail’s colleague, and he might as well have been wearing a hat with “overachiever” written all over it in highlighter. The man had brought his paperwork to a spa, for pity’s sake. 

“From the back problems he described, I assumed-” Qui Gon thought back to when Bail had first approached him. Usually, he didn’t say much about his guests – he didn’t have to, as they seemed to be a chatty, friendly bunch. But with this one, he had booked an appointment just to discuss him; how he might be grumpy at first, about how he struggled with touch, but most of all how the massage would be a surprise. A much, much needed surprise. 

“He’s over-exaggerating. Really, it’s nothing to be concerned about.” 

“You don’t want a massage, but you need one.” Qui Gon cocked his head to one side, and squinted. “Your shoulders – one is higher than the other, and you hunch. Office work?” 

“Yes but-“ Qui Gon stepped closer, and saw Ben straighten, though his eye twitched with the strain. If he was breathing harder than usual, Qui Gon couldn’t tell. 

“But your core is strong. You’ve had posture training.” Ben nodded, the slump in his shoulders returning. “Military?” 

“My father was an officer.” He muttered, more to himself than to Qui Gon. “He used to make us balance books on our heads and walk down the stairs.” 

“Why’d you stop?” Qui Gon chuckled; he’d heard of the exercise many times, and though he had pretty perfect posture, he’d never quite mastered it himself. Tahl always joked that his hair was too sleek, and if he used a smidge less conditioner, he might stand a chance. However, Ben didn’t share his mirth, scowling. 

“Because he’s a-“ He started, but took a deep breath, and shook his head. “I don’t have to talk to you. I just want the money.” 

Qui Gon paused, watching the man carefully. He’d seen his fair share of wealthy bastards – those who had wheedled every last inch out of his treatments to ensure they were really getting what they paid for. He’d known customers steal samples – steal full bottles of product – stuffing them into their designer handbags as if that would make the crime somehow permissible. They always had a smug twist to their mouths, knowing that they would never be called out for such behaviour, and even if they were (as Qui Gon often did), the police would almost always find an excuse, and lighten their sentences where other, poorer people would be condemned. 

This man didn’t have that smirk, or any smirk. His mouth turned down, and Qui Gon could see where his teeth had left a near permanent indent in his lower lip. There was something so practiced about all his movements, like he’d trained in front of a mirror for hours to get that perfect smile, that correct nod. But as polished as his gestures were, there was an uneasiness that lingered, struggling to stay hidden. It was in his face, but also in his clothes. Qui Gon didn’t know much about fashion, but he could tell when a suit – even a nice one, like Ben wore – was old. He could see beyond the perfect starching to the repairs and alterations. 

“Short fuse? Or just short on cash?” Qui Gon spoke lightly, but it was enough to bring a raging flush to Ben’s face. For a man who had made a career out of touching raw nerves, it still surprised Qui Gon when people got genuinely angry. 

“Excuse me?!” Ben growled, mouth tightening into a thin grim line. Qui Gon turned, and smiled back.

“There.” He pointed at the younger man’s cheek, eyeing the bulge in his clenched jaw. He then trailed his eyes down, trying to see pressure points through his bulky outfit. “Stay exactly as you are. What hurts right now?” 

“I-“ Ben’s mouth fell open, and the muscle in his mouth eased, but the rest of his body heaved at the effort of controlling his temper. 

“Don’t move.” Qui Gon held up a steady palm, and moved forward, circling around his client. “You’re taut as a bowstring; something must be aching somewhere.” He saw the man swallow, settling his expression into something colder. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out. It’s what I’m trained in.” 

“My back.” The words might as well have been ripped from the man’s throat, for all the reluctance he gave. In truth, it wasn’t surprising – even from the way he sat, Qui Gon could tell something was out of alignment in his spine. Ben gently raised a hand to his tailbone, face screwed up with discomfort. “Just above my hips it’s… tight. Shoulders too. Left more than right.” 

“Headache?” 

“Usually.” Qui Gon felt his heart clench when he heard the casualness in Ben’s voice. His face had twisted into something distant, nibbling at his lip. How long had he been like this – all tense and tight and… 

Lonely. That’s what Qui Gon had seen in the waiting room. He looked so lonely. 

“What does that have to-“ Ben’s voice broke through Qui Gon’s thoughts and he waved a hand towards the man’s face. 

“You clench your teeth when you’re angry. Puts pressure on your jaw muscles, which travels to your neck and alters your head position. Do you wake up with headaches?” 

“I – yes.” That certainly explained the shadows under his eyes; what little sleep the man was getting was probably instantly undone by throbbing temples first thing in the morning. Qui Gon had definitely been there himself. 

“Then you’re probably grinding your teeth when you sleep.” He moved closer and tried to trace the curve of Ben’s spine. “What’s your mattress like?” 

“Why – you fancy a spin?” The man replied, almost automatically. Qui Gon had to hold back a snort as he flushed, staining his pale cheeks a pretty pink. A charmer then – no wonder Bail liked him. “Sorry, I don’t know why I-“ 

“If your mattress is too firm, you could cause misalignment. And don’t get me started on couches and office chairs.” Qui Gon had intended to be flippant, but he saw how Ben’s eyes flicked away, focusing on his perfectly shined shoes. They were old too, worn away at the heel. Their owner fidgeted, looking down at his watch again. 

“This has all been fascinating, but I really have to-“ 

“Look, I know Bail. You’re not the first friend he’s brought here.” Qui Gon folded his arms, and the younger man glanced up, before looking away again. “He’ll have cleared your schedule and will be waiting outside with wine and a dinner reservation, trying to charm his way into a manicure. You don’t have anywhere else to be.” 

“You don’t know my-“ 

“I get it – you’re a bwig stwong man who doesn’t need babying.” Qui Gon lisped, which made the man’s frown deepen. Still, perhaps a bit of teasing would get through his thick skull. “But the truth is, if you don’t sort out these problems, you’re only going to feel worse. You’re going to threaten your mobility, worsen your sleep, and probably turn into even more of an arrogant arsehole than you already are.”

That was enough for the younger man, who pushed himself to his feet. His face was bright red now, but there seemed to be more shame in his eyes than anger. However, he did reach for his jacket, wincing as he did so. Qui Gon felt a little bit sorry for him; the pain must have been bad if even basic movements were a strain. 

“You can’t talk to me like that! I’m the-“ 

“I don’t give a shit what you do for a living. I treat bankers, and I treat builders. Surgeons and sales assistants, charity workers and CEOs. No amount of fancy titles will buy you respect in here. Now, are you going to keep bickering with me, or are you going to let me look at your hands?”

“M-my hands?” The man paused, looking down. “I don’t-“ 

“You’re an office worker, right? Lots of typing? More handshakes than you’d like, too?” The man nodded, and Qui Gon sighed, taking the jacket and setting it back down. “If you don’t stretch your fingers and wrists, you could develop carpal tunnel syndrome. Roll up your sleeves.” After a moment’s hesitation, the man did as he was told, taking the initiative to remove his watch as he did so. Good – it was a lovely piece, but the strap had been a bit tight and left a pink ring around his wrist. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought – swollen and probably sore, right?” He probed a particularly tight area by the man’s elbow and watched him flinch, trying to curl his arm back in. Qui Gon trailed his fingers down the man’s forearm and felt him shudder. “I can help, if you let me. You willing to give it a go? If you hate it, we can stop.”

“Okay.” With one long sigh, the fight trickled out of Ben, and it was easy enough to guide him back onto the table. He still perched rather than lying down, but it was enough. 

“I’m just going to start by warming up the muscles; tell me if anything doesn’t feel right. This is about you, and your comfort.” 

“This is… fine.” His blush had reduced down into two bright spots, but he still looked rosy, and his voice was stilted. Still, his eyes blinked a little slower, and Qui Gon could feel him softening. 

They continued like that for a few minutes, the younger man growing sleepier with every stroke. He must have been exhausted, if such minimal touch had him feeling dozy. Qui Gon made sure to be especially gentle, as he tried to work the tension out of the man’s hands. They were surprisingly callused, as if he had spent a lot of time holding a stick, as well as the usual bumps from continual writing and typing. No rings or jewellery, though his nails were bitten down to the quick. 

“If it helps, I can narrate everything I’m doing – keep you in the loop.” Qui Gon resisted the urge to cup the man’s cheek when he looked up at him, big blue eyes as trusting as a baby’s. “Like now, I’m going to start doing longer strokes to help stretch out the muscles that have contracted around your wrist. This okay?” 

“Feels… nice…” He yawned a little bit, before murmuring out an apology. In truth, Qui Gon took it as a compliment; it was nice to soothe someone into sleepiness. Though whether it was the touch or the warmth or the smell was hard to distinguish. 

The next few minutes passed in that soft warm bliss, broken only by the occasional murmur as Qui Gon moved to the man’s other arm. He took his time with every stroke – more than he usually would, if he was quite honest – but his caution paid off. The man was melting like butter, a tiny pleased smile creeping onto his face. He was beautiful, Qui Gon realised, all fine boned and creamy skin. His light, long eyelashes fluttered, and occasionally his tongue would dance across his full lower lip. 

Eventually though, Qui Gon had to wrench his eyes away and glance at a nearby clock. In truth, they were nearly out of time, but the man was so relaxed that he didn’t want to leave him with just some soothed arms. Tahl could take his next patient – she’d understand. 

“We still have some time left.” He whispered, and a small frown crept back onto the man’s brow but he didn’t complain. Knowing Bail’s type, he probably had a perfect sense of time but Qui Gon hoped he was calm enough that he could be persuaded otherwise. “If you would like, I can extend this up into your shoulders, and sort out at least some of the tightness there. But only if that is what you want – you can say no, and I can finish up.” 

“Please keep going.” Ben begged, opening one eye. They were surprisingly pretty, a shifting blue-green with clusters of crow’s feet, and some kinder wrinkles from smiling. The crease in his eyebrows had eased. 

“It will be much easier if you take off your shirt. And you’ll feel better if you lie down, I promise. It’ll be easier to push the tension out of your muscles if you’re on your stomach.” Qui Gon stepped away – and ignored the sound of the man whimpering at the loss – before slipping on his gloves and cradling two large heated rocks in each hand. They wouldn’t burn him or his client, but it would be enough to leave his hands pleasantly warm on Ben’s skin. 

“Can I keep my vest on?” It was a question Qui Gon was asked a lot, but never quite so anxiously. He forced himself to keep his gaze forward, focusing on the rocks in front of him. If the man was shy, bringing it up would only worsen his tension. 

“Of course, though I would ask you to lower the straps if possible. I need as clear access to your shoulders as I can get.” Qui Gon turned back, and felt his breath catch in his throat. 

The man had removed his shirt, and sat demurely on the bed, looking at the floor. In his career, Qui Gon had seen a lot of bodies, in various states of undress, but there was something about the man’s half-dressed shyness that was more charming than Qui Gon could have ever imagined. His clothes, despite their age, had been impressively well-tailored; they bulked out his slender frame, and now that he looked closer, Qui Gon could see the man was much thinner than he appeared. His vest, its straps tucked away and now loosened from his suit trousers, billowed about his ribs, and Qui Gon saw two sharp clavicles poking out on his chest. His arms, however, were well sculpted, with muscles that would make Michelangelo flush, and the whole ensemble was lightly dusted with freckles. One red-gold strand of hair fell in front of his eyes, marring the perfect image, but Qui Gon liked the hint of untidiness. It made him seem human. Gentle. 

Smoothly, he gestured for Ben to lie down and moved forward himself, setting his hands on Ben’s shoulders. He heard the little surprised murmur trickle out of his client’s mouth; people were always taken aback at the warmth of the oil, and judging by the goosebumps, the man had been colder than he was letting on. He started moving his hands, slowly adding pressure, when his fingers trailed across a raised patch just peaking out the edge of Ben’s vest. He hissed, tensing back up. 

“Does that hurt?” Qui Gon asked, resisting the urge to prod further. It looked like a scar, but it was too messy to be surgical. At least it was fairly pale – newer scars were much harder to work with, and he would worry about which products to use. “I can avoid it if you like.” 

“Please.” His voice cracked a little, but it wasn’t enough to make him sit up. “Please just… do that warm thing again.” 

“Feel good?” Qui Gon asked, stroking closer to Ben’s spine. If the man could purr, he would have been, judging by the tiny happy wriggle he gave. 

“Delightful.” 

“I’m going to start on the right shoulder, get you used to the feeling before moving onto the more painful left, okay?” The man nodded against the pillow, and Qui Gon let his fingers linger just a little on the man’s neck. Checking for strain – yes, that’s absolutely what he was doing. Qui Gon swallowed, and pressed against the base of the man’s skull, feeling him shudder. “You don’t get a lot of touch, do you?”

“Not for Bail’s lack of trying.” The man tried to laugh, but it came out pained. Qui Gon couldn’t see his face, but he figured it would have gone twisty again. Maybe he was biting his lip. “I just…” 

“Relax. We don’t have to talk about it.” He let his fingers brush against the other man’s cheeks, just for a second, before moving down to his left shoulder. “Now, let’s see what we have here.” 

Qui Gon was far too much of a professional to outwardly register his surprise, but the knot he found in Ben’s shoulder would be talk of the staff-room as soon as the man was soothed and at home. It was the biggest Qui Gon had ever felt, and firm as a marble. When he pressed down on it, Ben let out a little half sob. 

“Easy, easy.” He tried to soften his touch as much as possible, but knew that there would be an incredible amount of pain to work through before any relief could occur. Unconsciously, he reached down and patted Ben’s waist, hoping to bring him some reassurance. Ben nodded, and Qui Gon could hear him breathing through his nose as he pressed down again. The knot must have been more than tension originally, though it didn’t feel like a recent injury. He found himself humming to keep Ben relaxed as he worked through the tension, even as the man whimpered to himself. But every time Qui Gon offered to stop, he would shake his head, and bear down harder. He wasn’t doing the rest of his body many favours, but Qui Gon couldn’t imagine how much pain he was currently in. He tried to work quickly and effectively, willing his fingers to work their magic. 

Eventually they did, and he felt Ben go limp. He’d stopped panting, and was breathing deeply, finally relaxed. Qui Gon skated his palm over the width of Ben’s shoulders, feeling them level with each other. 

“That better?” Qui Gon resisted the urge to coo. The groan that Ben responded with was that of the truly pleased. Qui Gon found himself chuckling in response. 

“Pressure okay? We’ve done most of the hard work but I can go firmer if you need it.” 

“No this is great.” Ben’s voice seemed to have dropped an octave, which made a new warmth creep into Qui Gon’s stomach. “How did you get so good at this?” 

“You should meet my partner, Dex. I swear the man has four arms, all the places he can reach.” 

“Partner? Like a…” Ben lifted his head a little, giving Qui Gon an excuse to properly touch his neck, in order to place him back down. 

“My colleague, I should have said.” He admitted, which seemed to relax his client. “Though I have seen much more of Dex that I would have liked in this line of work, we aren’t involved.” He chuckled at the though – Dex, as lovely as he was, would probably crush him. And that was saying something, considering Qui Gon’s height. 

“Now, stay still. I’m going to apply some oil, make sure we get this relief to stay as long as possible. Do you have any preference? The mint is sometimes a little too strong.” 

“Dealer’s choice.” Ben mumbled, sounding very sleepy again. Qui Gon gave him a moment of privacy as he sorted through his bottles. After some foraging, he smiled and pulled out his favourite. 

Honey and almond, with little gold flecks inside. For very very special visitors. 

*

As much as Qui Gon tried to extend the massage, there was truly only so much time a shoulder rub could take, and all too soon it was over. Tahl tapped three times on the door, and jangled a nearby set of wind-chimes – their sign to wrap up as quickly as possible. Qui Gon started the process of cooling down, and allowed his palms to linger for just a moment, before removing them completely. Ben was too sleepy to complain. 

“Lie still for a moment. Allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, and dress whenever you are ready, I’ll be stepping out to sort out things with Bail – come through when you choose.” 

He heard a little mumble then, barely words, but tinged with so much gratitude that Qui Gon froze. He’d barely done half of the treatments he would have liked to – they would have involved deeper pressings and other products, and much more time – but knowing he had done so much already made his heart flutter. He smiled down at the calmer man and felt that warmth flush through his stomach again. It was enough to carry him to the edge of the room. 

“Oh, and-“ Qui Gon doubled back to the oils station, and poured a glass of water, topping it with a slice of lemon before placing it next to Ben. “Drink that – all of it if you can. We’ve released a lot of toxins today, and keeping yourself hydrated will flush them out.” 

He made himself leave as quickly as possible after that. If he saw that smile again, he’d be absolutely done for. 

Outside, Qui Gon shivered. It had started to go dark outside, and a cool evening breeze curled through the reception. It didn’t seem to bother Tahl or Bail, who was back with a curious expression on his face. 

“You two have been in there quite a while – I had to push back my reservation.” Bail lifted one elegant eyebrow, but Qui Gon wasn’t fooled. There was genuine concern in the other man’s eyes, and he kept glancing at Spa Room 4 as if it might burst open any moment. “Did he argue?” 

“At first. But then, he seemed to get used to the idea.” Qui Gon saw the surprise in Bail’s face, but didn’t comment on it, following Bail’s gaze to the door. He could hear the slight shuffling of Ben redressing himself, and sighed; he’d wished the man would stay put for a little while longer. Straightening himself, he turned back to the senator, expression firm. “Bail, he needs more treatment. I’d like to see him once a week for the next six weeks, to really set him right. Can that be arranged?” 

“Think of it as a business expense.” Bail shrugged, his face softening. “He’s one of my best, and I’m not losing him to scoliosis. But it’ll take some persuading; we have to wheedle him into taking weekends, let alone lunch and coffee breaks.” 

“Bail, he needs it. I’ve not seen muscles that tight since-“ Qui Gon stopped himself, and handed over a wodge of paper to Bail. A treatment plan, effective immediately. “Take him to dinner, introduce the topic on the second course. I’ve seen you talk Beyonce into wearing cableknit; you can do this.” 

“I can try – but he’s stubborn. Whatever he’s shown you is just the starting point, my friend. I’m not sure if he’ll – Ben?” The handle turned and Ben emerged, looking flushed and shy. Bail dropped the papers on the desk and gaped at his friend, eyes sparkling joyfully. “Ben, is that you? Christ – what did you do to him, Qui? He looks ten years younger.” 

And he did. He stood taller and straighter than before, and Qui Gon grinned when he noticed Ben’s jacket slung almost lazily over his arm. The humidity had caused his previously gelled hair to loosen, curling at the tips. Best of all was his smile, and the way it caused his eyes to crinkle at the edges; it was warm, and full of hope. A smile you could fall in love with, Qui Gon thought. 

“Master Jinn is a miracle worker.” Ben turned in a little circle with his arms spread wide, before folding back down into himself. 

Tahl returned with the bulging satchel, and Qui Gon watched as some of the brightness faded from Ben’s face. He reached for it, but the bag was quickly swept up by Bail. 

“I’ll be taking that for now. Can’t have you looking at government minutes over steak tartare, now can we?” Bail paused, and then rolled his eyes. “Or knowing you – kale and pomegranate seeds.” 

“I like kale!” Ben’s nose wrinkled and Qui Gon had to look away – it was simply too sweet. “Fine, if you insist. Oh – Mr Jinn? Thank you. Truly.” He turned back to see Ben smiling at him, glowing like a little sun. “I feel better than I have in years.” 

“The pleasure was all mine, Mr Kenobi.” He couldn’t help but give a little bow, winking as he did so in a way that made that pretty flush return for a final time. “Make sure to return soon.” 

“Chance would be a fine thing.” He sighed, playing with a loose thread on his suit, before nodding to himself and stepping away. It was like the thought of his frayed clothing settled his heart back into working. “Come on Bail. I’m sure you’ve got a cab waiting outside.” 

“He’ll be back by Monday, I promise.” Bail gave Tahl a somehow flirty nod before shaking Qui Gon’s hand. “Thanks again, Qui. You really are a life saver.” 

“It’s no problem, really.” They broke apart and Bail made to run down the stairs. “Oh – and Bail?” The other man turned, looking expectant. “Make sure he eats dessert. He’s skinny under all that-“ 

“Oh, I know.” Bail gave a long-suffering sigh, that quickly turned into a cheeky smirk. “But the best thing about Ben Kenobi is he’s got an irrepressible sweet tooth. I know just the thing.” 

Bail grinned that wonderful grin and trotted off after his friend, slipping an arm around his newly soothed waist. The gesture was enough that Ben turned, never flinching even as he glanced over his shoulder to smile and wave at them both, a hint of a laugh brightening his face. 

A smile to fall in love with, definitely. 

He just hoped he’d get another chance to see it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Qui Gon had definitely hoped to see Ben again. He hadn’t, however, intended to see him three times in the same week._
> 
> Ben comes back, and Qui Gon finds out the answers to some of his questions.

Qui Gon had definitely hoped to see Ben again. He hadn’t, however, intended to see him three times in the same week. 

Unfortunately for his professional dignity, none of them had been at the massage parlour. And to the misery of his personal life, none of them had involved a conversation, or even Ben noticing he was nearby. Ben hadn’t been going out of his way to find Qui Gon, and Qui Gon hadn’t been searching for Ben. It was just the whim of their strange city that they kept brushing past each other. 

The first time Qui Gon had found Ben was at a local coffee-shop. Qui Gon didn’t tend to buy from chains – he didn’t like watching small businesses being crushed under capitalism’s ruthless thumb, and he couldn’t justify spending ridiculous amounts of money on the same tea he could brew at home. But it had been the ninth anniversary of their business, and for as much as he’d promised, he’d forgotten to bake his famous lime and pistachio cake, so he owed Tahl something sweet to celebrate with. However, vegan baked goods, especially nice ones, were hard to come by at short notice, so he’d reluctantly slunk into the least-disgusting of the mainstream businesses and had set his eye on a nice chocolate and cherry loaf. When he looked up though, he was stunned to see Ben waiting patiently at the other end of the line, tapping the rim of his reusable to-go cup. 

Qui Gon instantly focused on him. His shoulders seemed a little looser, though tension had crept back into the ram-rod straightness of his spine. He could only see half of Ben’s face, but he looked less exhausted and more lightly sleepy, like he’d only just started his day rather than having slogged through the night. His voice was lightly raspy; Qui Gon was a little ashamed to admit eavesdropping but couldn’t help but cheer when Ben ordered an earl grey with lemon instead of milk – clearly the man had taste. He paid promptly, and though his first glance at his change was tinged with a worried lip-bite, he thumbed most of the coins into a nearby tip jar. Loveliest of all though was when he finally received his drink. He paused for just a moment to smell the tea, before taking a small sip. Then, a beautiful content smile spread over his face, his eyes drifting closed with satisfaction. 

It wasn’t stunning behaviour. He wasn’t caressed by the light, or writing sonnets about the barista. He was just a normal guy, buying a tea. It just so happened that he was gorgeous whilst doing it. 

The second time Qui Gon noticed Ben was in the biscuit aisle of the supermarket. This time, he was only catering to his own hunger, and so his basket – though mostly full of fruits and vegetables – still had a few treats in. He was dithering between digestives or hobnobs when he saw a flash of red hair sneak over to the other end of the aisle. Qui Gon glanced at him through the corner of his eye, and felt his heart melt a little. The lip-bite was back, now accompanied by a deep frown, as Ben glanced between his basket and the shelves. His selection was much sparser that Qui Gon’s – tea bags, paracetamol, long-life milk. What fresh food he had bore the tell-tale yellow stamp of the reduced section, and even that was minimal. Qui Gon watched as he reached for the very cheapest biscuits – a tiny packet of on-sale custard creams – and held it in his hands for a few indecisive seconds, before hiding it away under his loaf of day-old bread. Before Qui Gon could say anything, he’d dashed off, loosening his tie as he went. 

Qui Gon sighed, his appetite for biscuits tempered by the little display. However, as he went, he did make sure to pick up an extra-large packet of custard creams and tuck them way to go in the parlour’s biscuit tin. Though they usually only offered tea and fruits (and sometimes chocolates to hen parties and birthday massages), it couldn’t hurt to get a few little customer treats in. Just in case. 

The third time Qui Gon had run into Ben, he truly hadn’t been expecting it. It was Sunday – his only day off – and he’d been rather unceremoniously dragged out of bed by a phonecall from his brother, Rael. Their relationship had been strained for a few years, but they’d found new bonds through Rael’s two beautiful daughters. The two girls couldn’t be more different – Fanry, with her red hair and spit-fire ways was every bit her father’s baby. Nimm, her elder sister, was much more relaxed which made it so surprising that she’d chosen hockey as her preferred hobby. From the few matches he’d attended, Qui Gon had seen the game as surprisingly vicious, considering all the players were under ten. Still, Nimm liked it, and Qui Gon liked spending time with Nimm, which is why he hadn’t complained too stringently about having to collect her from practice. He had refused to get out of his pyjamas though, and Nimm had giggled upon seeing his bright green Kermit the Frog sleep-pants. 

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion.” She’d smirked, cuddling up to him as he stroked through her hair. Rael had let her dye it blue this time, and it suited her. 

“Me and your old man have got more in common that we first thought.” He’d replied, scooping up her bag. He’d been turning to leave when another happy voice chimed through the cold morning air. 

“Princess!” Qui Gon had looked up instinctively – both he and Rael had called Fanry princess since she was tiny, and the gentle tone reminded him of his brother. But Rael was understandably nowhere to be seen, and instead Qui Gon was greeted by the sight of a little brunette girl charging across the field to be swept up into Ben’s arms. He’d spun the girl around in circles, both laughing. Despite the extra weight and the motion, Ben hadn’t even flinched. 

And hadn’t that little an entirely different fire in Qui Gon’s heart. For once, Ben wasn’t in his suit; instead, his outfit was well-worn jeans and an oversized caramel jumper that complimented the coppery highlights of his hair. His pretty eyes were closed but that meant that Qui Gon could see the delicate spiderweb of smile lines that rippled over his cheeks. And freckles – the man’s cheeks were covered in freckles that Qui Gon just wanted to run his fingers over. 

Nimm, blast her, had noticed, and stifled a laugh.

Luckily, she hadn’t mentioned it until mid-afternoon, when Rael finally slunk out of his emergency meeting to pick her up. Qui Gon had been making silly faces through the car window at Fanry when Nimm had nudged her father in the ribs and nodded meaningfully. 

“Uncle Qui’s got a crush. Again.” She’d sighed with a roll of her eyes, so much like her late mother that Qui Gon ached at the thought. Rael had huffed too, raising an eyebrow. 

“What poor bastard have you got your eye on now?” As grumpy as he had sounded, there was still a smile in his voice, and a knowing glance traded between father and daughter. Yes, Qui Gon had had his fair share of partners, but Nimm never would have mentioned it if it was just a little fling. This was something else. 

“He’s not a crush.” Qui Gon had denied, trying to keep his cheeks free of flushing. “He’s just a… a client. Barely that. Bail brought him in for a shoulder-rub, nothing more. He’s just a nice man.” 

“A nice man, sure.” Rael set his hands on his hips, leaning against the bonnet of his car. Thankfully, Qui Gon’s sexuality had never bothered him; he preferred to intimidate whoever his little brother brought home based on their personality, rather than their gender. “And does this man have good hair? Strong arms? An ass you can bounce a quarter off?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” Qui Gon sniffed, winking for the final time at Fanry before straightening. Thank God the girl was inside and couldn’t hear her father’s causal language. “He won’t even take his vest off.” 

“Oooh, playing hard to get.” Rael had smirked, opening the door so Nimm could slide in with her gym kit on her knees. “Sounds like you’re branching out in your old age.” 

“He’s just a client. I’ll probably never see him again.” Qui Gon had argued. 

And then of course, Qui Gon had arrived at work bright and early Monday morning to find Ben Kenobi in his waiting room, looking like he’d just walked out of a sportswear catalogue. 

What a little bastard. 

*

“Told you he’d be back.” Tahl was smirking from behind the desk as Qui Gon forced unwilling feet to walk towards her, eyes still fixed on Ben. 

He was perched on one of their plusher chairs with a cup of green tea and a rather fetching pair of reading glasses on his face. His outfit was an oversized cream t-shirt with some geometric pattern curving up the side, and tight brown leggings, with leather-effect trainers that had probably cost more than Qui Gon’s rent, if they hadn’t been worn and battered over time. Rather than his satchel, he was carrying a straining gym bag, and Qui Gon rolled his eyes when his client pulled out even more paperwork, stored in neat little popper-wallets. 

“I keep telling you Tahl, there’s magic in these hands.” He winked, wiggling his fingers at her as he passed by to peer at their appointment chart. “He’s early.” 

“He asked if he could come in and get some work done before his appointment; says all the cafes are full and they’re doing maintenance on his office. With the rain, I couldn’t say no.” 

“Is it raining?” Qui Gon asked absent-mindedly, squinting at Ben’s specifications. “He’s down for deep-tissue; that’s a lot for a beginner.” 

“You’ve seen the pain he’s in; I’m surprised he didn’t ask for Shiatsu. I know I would be.” She pressed a file into his hands, looking down pointedly. “Bail sent it over before he arrived. Give it a read - it’s vague but… you should know.” 

Qui Gon flicked the manila folder open and hissed through his teeth. Details were sparse, but even the list of conditions was enough to have him wincing. 

Severe spinal injury – gunshot wound, and other shrapnel. 

Six months in physiotherapy, then a relapse after eighteen months due to trauma. Hospitalised for five weeks. Physiotherapy for eight months. 

Diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – treatment for three years. 

The poor boy had been in pain – no agony – for years. 

Of course, Qui Gon was going to help. 

*

When Ben eventually came into his studio, Qui Gon couldn’t help but be nervous. He hadn’t set it up any differently – scented candles, warmed towels, light music – but knowing the man’s injuries, he’d made sure to use the best of everything. If anyone deserved an indulgence, it was Ben Kenobi. 

He couldn’t be a soldier – Ben had already denied that at their last meeting. A police officer, perhaps – that would explain the paperwork, if he was a senior member. But he certainly wasn’t the chief of police – that dubious title went to one Retina Jones, a truly slimy individual – and even he didn’t spend as much time with Bail as Ben seemed to. A security guard, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem to fit either. All those jobs seemed too… active for his suit-wearing workaholic. 

Any thoughts of the man’s occupation fled from Qui Gon’s mind when Ben himself entered the room. His walk was a little stiffer from what Qui Gon had noticed earlier in the week, but he wasn’t anywhere near as tense as during their first meeting. In truth, Qui Gon hadn’t expected Ben to return to the Spa at all. He’d known Ben’s type before - appreciative of massage’s benefits but unwilling to stick to a fixed routine. He supposed he couldn’t blame him; physical treatments were so often treated as luxuries to indulge in occasionally, rather than preventative measures against poor health. And seeing how Ben had lit up so beautifully after just a light shoulder rub, the poor man was probably delighted enough with the range of motion he’d recovered, and wouldn’t seek for another miracle. 

“Is this alright?” Ben asked, gesturing down to his outfit. God those leggings really were tight; they could have been painted onto his strong thighs. “I’ve been doing some research and these are… well, these are the comfiest clothes I own that aren’t pyjamas.” 

“Any clothing is fine, so long as you are comfortable in it before we start, and with removing parts of it as necessary.” Qui Gon croaked out, turning away to fiddle with his CD player. When he glanced back, Ben was holding back a smile. 

“Even a suit?” 

“Even a suit, though this ensemble is more… expected.” Qui Gon nodded down at the clothes, and watched Ben tug at the hem of his t-shirt. There was something vulnerable in his eyes that made Qui Gon speak again. “I must say, I am surprised to see you back here.” Ben looked up with a slight frown. “Are you finding this treatment useful?” 

“I feel better than I have in years.” His expression cleared, a bright beaming smile on his face. “I managed to pick my niece up for the first time since she was a toddler.” 

“That is always good to hear.” Qui Gon turned to consult his patient notes, keeping his eyes away from the dreaded list of conditions. “Now, Bail had booked you in for a deep-tissue massage today; that’s a little more intense than your last visit and will cover more of the body. Is that alright?” 

“If it does the job, I’m fine with it.” 

“It will also require me to have more access to your skin.” He paused, trying to think of how to phrase it delicately. “I’d need you entirely shirtless today, if we are to do the work properly.” 

Ben’s smile faded, and he swallowed, looking at the floor. He tugged again at his tshirt, unveiling a long loose thread, which he pawed at. 

“How much could you… could you improve if I stayed as I am?”

“I could ease the tension, but I couldn’t work out the knots we uncovered last time, and I wouldn’t be able to give you any of the lotions or aftercare treatment.” Qui Gon confessed, watching Ben’s smile fall further. “It’s possible I could cause you more pain from trying.” 

“I guess I have no choice then.” He straightened his spine with a slight wince, and stared straight ahead, eyes cold. “I… well, you’ll see in a moment but… please know that it is incredibly sensitive. Please refrain from touching it as much as possible.” 

“I’ll give you a moment to undress.” Qui Gon nodded, moving towards the door. With his fingers wrapped around the handle, he turned back. “And before you ask, you may keep your underwear on or remove it, as you choose.” 

Sometimes, the awkwardness of full nudity made patients giggly, but Ben couldn’t look any further from laughter if he tried. Qui Gon left, gathering a few extra things and trying to take as long as possible. When he returned, Ben was lying on his stomach, head tilted towards the wall so Qui Gon couldn’t see his face. 

Perhaps it was for the best, as Qui Gon caught sight of the mess on Ben’s back. 

Usually, he tried not to comment on his patients’ bodies; anything he would say they had probably thought of a thousand times themselves, whether that be weight issues, acne and skin conditions, or even body odour. But the scarring curling around Ben’s spine was so extensive that he couldn’t help but reach. Distantly, Qui Gon had thought of his own scars when trying to picture Ben’s; the mottled white lines criss-crossing his knee from the time he’d clambered over a barbed wire fence, the surgical precision of his appendectomy incisions. Ben’s scarring – which ranged from the base of his ribs to the top of his hips - seemed to encapsulate the two. Sometimes the lines were perfectly straight, neatly splaying out, with little pockmarks nearby from long-gone stitches. Other times, they looked more like claw-marks, as if they had been gouged at. Dead in the centre was a divot about the size of a bottlecap that looked pink and sore, but not open. It must have been agony. 

“Jesus Christ.” He whispered before he could stop himself. There was a little scoff from the table as he said it. 

“That’s not very zen of you.” Ben muttered into the plush white towels, his voice crackly. 

“My apologies – I just –“ Qui Gon stammered, flexing his fingers. His anatomy lessons had taught him how to navigate scar tissue, and he’d helped with some minor cases, but this was more than he’d ever dealt with before. However, silence wasn’t the right response either, as Ben twisted around with a glare. 

“Are you going to spend the whole session staring?” His voice was cold as he lay back down, but when Qui Gon touched his shoulders, he could tell the man was no ice-sculpture. His skin was flushed with embarrassment and he twitched, pressing his face further down in an attempt to hide. 

“No – no – I just –“ Qui Gon took a deep breath, and started to move. Maybe his hands could give an apology his mouth could not. “Tell me if it’s too much pressure.” 

The massage starts in silence. Ben was not quite as tense as his first visit, but there was definitely areas where Qui Gon had to dig deeper, in order to soothe the aching muscles. He kept his touches as gliding as possible, doing his best to stray away from the scar tissue by focusing on shoulders and neck to start with. After easing a particularly tricky knot, he heard Ben sigh, his body going limper by the second. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” He whispered, voice thick with apology. Qui Gon gave his neck a comforting stroke before moving down his spine. 

“I didn’t mean to be so vocal.” He apologised. His hands drifted lower and lower until he paused at the top of the scar tissue. He could feel Ben trembling beneath him. “Forgive me for prying but… are you still receiving any treatment for this?” 

“Apart from you? No.” Ben’s voice was clipped and tight, exactly what it shouldn’t be. “My physiotherapist said there wasn’t much more that could be done other than gentle exercise and rest.” 

“Not to sound like a stereotype but have you tried yoga?” He gently ran his hand down Ben’s arms; usually he would move lower down the back, but he sensed Ben was far too worked up to even approach the scarred area yet. “They run a restorative course at the gym – it did wonders for my hip injury.” 

“A hip injury. That must have been difficult to work with.” Ben mused, making a few gentle murmurs as Qui Gon set to work on his elbows. People assumed it would be difficult to be tense there, but with the amount of typing the modern world required, Qui Gon found more and more people needing assistance there. 

“Well, I didn’t always work here.” He replied, trailing his fingers back up and finding far more resistance than he left. “Everything alright? You’ve tensed up.” 

Ben was quiet for a while, and Qui Gon kept his fingers moving to keep the situation from becoming awkward. After a few more presses on his shoulderblades, Ben groaned and relented again, unable to keep up the stiff front. Eventually, the words tumbled out again. 

“I feel wrongfooted. You know so much of me, and I so little of you.” He confessed, and Qui Gon wanted to coo at the way he spoke. He enjoyed watching period dramas on his crappy little television when there was nothing else on, and Ben had a habit of sounding exactly like an eligible young bachelor from a Jane Austen story. It made Qui Gon equal parts happy and homesick. 

“What have you gathered so far?” He challenged, thinking that light conversation soothed Ben almost as much as touch. He wasn’t expecting the man to tilt his head up and stare at him for a moment, before starting a monologue. 

“Well, you’re a small business owner. You work with your friends. You have a distinctive… look, so I assume you have no desire to work in a more formal environment.” The sheepish smile was back, so Qui Gon knew it wasn’t Ben being judgemental. “You’re an Irish immigrant – first generation if that accent’s real. You’re spiritual, and you’ve travelled a lot.” Ben paused, and looked up again. “You’re generous. You’re loyal. You listen to Led Zeppelin.” 

“How did you-“ Qui Gon spluttered, which made Ben giggle, slightly stifled by his position. 

“That one was an educated guess, but thank you for confirming my suspicions.” His nose wrinkled prettily when he laughed. Qui Gon had to remember that; it was a trick worth seeing again. “Oh, and you have several pets. A dog and… two cats. Maybe a parrot too?” 

“What is it – pet hair on my trousers and a feather in my hair?” He asked with a good-natured roll of his eyes. He tried to keep himself tidy, and especially in the massage parlour, he was fastidious about keeping his uniform allergen free, but he wasn’t perfect. And Fizzig was such a shedder! 

“No.” Ben confessed, letting his eyes drift closed. “A picture of you at the front desk with your pets. I didn’t know who the bird belonged to.” 

“The bird is Dex’s. Her name is Hermione, because he taught her to recite the dictionary and now she never stops giving out definitions.” They both laughed. “But you’re right about the dog and cats. And everything else you said. Which tells me I’m not doing my job right.” 

“What do you me-oh my God.” Ben’s expression was inquisitive before melting into something very different as he moaned in delight. Qui Gon was far too well-trained to pause, but he did delight at hearing the man so obviously happy. “Oh, please don’t stop.”

“Thought that would work.” He smirked. “You’re here to relax, not play Sherlock Holmes. You can be smart everywhere else, but here – just be at peace.” 

Ben nodded, and didn’t speak while Qui Gon worked through his arms and hands. When that work was complete, and his patient was little more than a ginger puddle on the massage bed, Qui Gon allowed himself to work back up, pausing just at the base of Ben’s shoulders. The scarring, though still shocking, was a lot more familiar now. 

“I’m going to get closer to your scars now.” Ben didn’t quite tense, but he did jolt a little, and he hid his face away again. “If you need me to stop, say. If you can’t talk, then tap the table twice, okay? We got at your pace.” 

Ben nodded, and Qui Gon set to work. At first, Ben’s little noises were heart-breaking; whimpers and half-sobs that he tried to hide in the towel. Whenever Qui Gon paused though, he shook his head and made an urging sound. Eventually, Qui Gon was able to figure out the easier spots and the points too sensitive to experiment with. He didn’t even attempt to touch the divot; any time he got anywhere near it, Ben would hiss in a breath. If Qui Gon touched it, he would probably wail. 

But Qui Gon wasn’t about to give up. He didn’t rush, but he also didn’t shy away from applying pressure when he needed to. Even when his soothing soundtrack repeated itself, he kept working, pouring all his energy into soothing the long-since crinkled muscles of Ben’s back. He spent a solid fifteen minutes working out one particular kink in Ben’s lower back, just below the scarring, and when it eventually eased, he was rewarded with a sleepy smile from his patient. 

“… th’nk y’” He barely opened his eyes, snuggling down into the warmth of the massage bed. Bail had been spot on when he’d said relaxing had made Ben seem ten years younger; he looked charmingly boyish, even with the stubble, and his expression was soft. Qui Gon couldn’t help but lean in, but blamed it on poor hearing. 

“What was that?” 

“I said… thank you.” He opened one eye, and blushed before closing it again, and yawning. “I didn’t realise I could feel like this.” 

“Help is always available to those who ask for it.” He gave Ben a little squeeze at the waist, and started working on the warm-down procedure. Mostly it involved pushing the tension out of the body, but Qui Gon’s favourite part was applying the soothing oils; clients made the strangest noises when they felt the oils tingle. Ben’s slight giggle when the ingredients started doing their work was understated, but pleasant, and Qui Gon was just about to finish working it into his skin, when he noticed his client’s breathing had deepened and slowed considerably. 

“Ben?” Gently, he raised his hand to Ben’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “Ben?”

The poor bastard was fast asleep. 

Gently, Qui Gon removed his hands from the man’s back; when opening The Temple, he and Tahl had agreed that, in the event of a client falling asleep, no further treatment would be done until they woke again. Consent was important to them, both professionally and personally, and usually stopping touch was enough to rouse their clients back into wakefulness. But Ben didn’t stir, only nuzzling further down into his towel pillow. 

*

“How’s he doing today? He seemed more relaxed earlier.” Tahl asked as soon as he left, trying to peep in the room.

“He certainly was receptive.” Qui Gon chuckled, which made her raise an eyebrow. “He fell asleep as soon as I worked that kink out of his lower back. I’m going to fetch his water and hope that’ll wake him.” He smiled fondly at the door, then glanced at the clock. “When’s my next appointment?”

“You’ve got a pedicure with Ms Mothma at 7:30.” Tahl confirmed, her face softening. “Let him sleep, if he doesn’t wake naturally. He could use the rest.” 

“You think his schedule is free enough? I don’t want him waking up in a panic because he’s running late for something.” 

“I’ll call Bail; he might be able to give us some insight.” She smiled, turning back to her computer. “And maybe upgrade that to water and a cup of tea. He might need the caffeine, especially if he’s got to travel to work or home.” 

Qui Gon nodded, and slipped into the kitchen to brew a few cups. One he placed on Tahl’s desk, as she mouthed a “thank you”; the other two joined the glass of water on the tray. He tried to be as quiet as possible when re-entering, but unfortunately, as he shut the door, Ben jolted awake, jerking upright as soon as he remembered where he was. 

“Jesus!” He gasped, fingers clutching the towels. Qui Gon set down the tray, giving him a moment to compose himself. “What am I-“ 

“You fell asleep as we were wrapping up.” Qui Gon made sure to keep his voice soothing and low. “We couldn’t wake you, and Bail said it was your day off, so we thought it best to let you rest.” 

“I… uh…” Ben stammered, glancing around the room before settling on Qui Gon’s face. Eventually, he smiled sheepishly. “… thank you. I guess I was more tired than I thought.” 

“Here, drink this. It’ll wake you up.” He passed over the mug, and watched Ben take a small sip. “Bed still giving you troubles?”

“When I get to it.” He confessed, rubbing his face. A light dusting of stubble ghosted over his cheeks. “I… I don’t sleep well. Never have. I’ve learned to stop fighting it.” 

“But you are still sleeping, right?” Qui Gon asked, and winced when the man didn’t respond, taking a deeper drink. “Look, I’m not a doctor but… I find, when I can’t sleep, even an hour lying down with my eyes closed makes me feel better than nothing.” 

“I’ll bear that in mind, thank you.” Ben nodded, lacing his fingers around the mug. He didn’t seem particularly convinced, but he wasn’t arguing either. “And thank you for… I really do feel wonderful.” 

“Good – shows I’m doing my job right.” Qui Gon smiled. “Now, Bail paid for the treatment before you arrived, so take your time and leave whenever you wish. Provided you have no other engagements, that is?” 

“Well, I did say I’d pop into the office if I got the chance but-“ Ben stifled a yawn. “I really don’t think I can keep my eyes open.” 

“How are you getting home?” Qui Gon leaned against the door, trying to appear calmer than he was. “I’d say if you’re driving maybe stay here until you’ve fully woken up.”

“No, no – that’s not an issue.” Ben shook his head, copper strands fanning around his face. “What’s the weather like? Is it still raining?” 

“Not when I checked. Are you walking home?” 

“Afraid so – none of the buses go my way.” Ben shrugged, but there was something else – his eyes darted away, just for a second as he spoke. 

“Do you want a lift? Or some company?” Qui Gon offered, perhaps a little too quickly judging on how Ben’s eyes widened. “You perhaps shouldn’t be alone if you’re feeling really exhausted.” 

Again, Ben hesitated, pausing longer this time. Qui Gon wondered how long would pass before Ben spoke again, but the sound of the bell ringing outside startled them out of his silence. 

“No, I’ll be quite alright, thank you.” Ben’s prim and proper voice was back, and his eyes were fixed on his pile of clothes. “May I get dressed? I probably should head back before I go all drowsy again.” 

Qui Gon nodded, and excused himself, waiting at the front desk until Ben emerged, looking soothed. When Tahl handed his sports bag back, Ben’s relaxed arm struggled a bit with the weight, but he shouldered it quickly, and hid any discomfort with another smile. 

“Same time next week?” He asked, hope shining in his eyes. Qui Gon nodded, resisting the urge to reach over the desk and press a kiss to his flushed cheek. 

“If you’ll come, I’ll be here.” He nodded, and watched the man go again, holding the door open as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so people seemed to enjoy this so I thought I'd add another chapter :D It's a lot more lore heavy, but I hope it's enjoyable <3 
> 
> I've got a lot more of a plot to work through, and The Skywalkers are on the way. I couldn't resist adding in Rael and his girls - they shoved their way in to tease Qui Gon and honestly, he deserves it ;D 
> 
> Let me know in the comments below what works and what doesn't; I'm grateful for all feedback! 
> 
> Have a good day, take care of yourself, and Happy Easter!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, didn't plan on writing this into a full fic but it wouldn't leave my brain until it was complete! 
> 
> I do have further ideas if anyone is interested - I've got a plan for bringing in Anakin and his Ani-fam - but also I'm okay with leaving it as a one-shot. 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay, and taking care of themselves! <3


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